Weaving nightmares
by NancyMay
Summary: Jean goes to see Susan Tyneman with Amelia. A bazaar to raise funds for the hospital is planned, but that's not what ultimately happens. Not knowing anything about Susan's family I have invented one for her, or part of one, anyway.


Amelia Jean has come to stay with her grandparents in Ballarat, she is almost a year old, almost walking and chattering away as only a toddler can.

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Jean laughed as her granddaughter wobbled over the uneven grass in the garden and sat down with a sudden plop on her well-padded backside. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout as she looked at the floor, blaming it for her current position. She looked up at Jean and held her arms out,

'Mamaw!'

Jean put down her secateurs and obligingly swung the child up and held her tight against her breast.

'Did the grass make you fall over, dumpling?' She snuffled into the dark curls and kissed her.

Amelia looked down and blew a raspberry at the offending ground which made Jean laugh out loud. She had been delighted to have the baby for a couple of weeks while her parents were taking a break. She was an easy child to care for, but determined, almost stubborn. Jean was glad she accepted Lucien as her grandfather and she was fascinated by the shiny buttons on Charlie's uniform.

'Shall we go and make grandpa some tea?' Jean headed towards the house, 'and maybe you'd like a drink, too.'

'Pa! Pa!' Amelia squealed with glee and bounced in Jean's arms. Jean moved her onto her hip, 'you are such a little wriggler.'

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Jean sat Amelia on the draining board while she washed her hands, then washed the child who was holding out her hands in readiness. Whatever grandma did, she wanted to do, too.

The years came flooding back, as Jean negotiated the crawling child on the kitchen floor. She's done the same when the boys were tiny, let them crawl while she cooked, somehow she never had an accident, and somehow Amelia knew to keep away from her when she was carrying anything hot.

Lucien wandered through, his last patient having left,

'Pa!' Amelia held her arms up to him and he swung her high over his head,

'Hello, chick,' he laughed at her, 'what have you been up to?' He moved round and kissed Jean on the cheek.

'We've been out in the garden,' Jean smiled, 'she landed on her bottom again.'

'It's a bit uneven for a toddler,' he shifted the child to his hip, as he had seen Jean do, and in the back of his mind it was how he held Li. They moved to the living room and sat with their tea, and Amelia with her juice.

'She's fine,' Jean smiled, 'she blames the grass.'

'Really?' Lucien failed to see how a child who babbled more than spoke intelligibly could blame something, or someone.

'She gave it a dirty look and when I picked her up she blew a raspberry at it.'

Lucien roared with laughter, 'So like her grandmother!'

'I do not blow raspberries at things that annoy me, Lucien Blake.' She pouted.

He grinned and leant over the baby to kiss her on the lips. The kiss became deeper and Amelia snuggled down against her grandmother, closing her eyes for a little nap. This was where she like to be, warm and safe, with two people who loved her. They pulled apart and looked down at the slumbering child. Jean smiled softly and adjusted her hold so she could stand and take her to the cot.

'There's still time,' he whispered as he watched her. There was almost a longing in her eyes when she was dealing with the child, as if she wished she were theirs.

'It would be nice,' she leant against his chest, 'to have something that is part of both of us, but, let's be realistic Lucien...'

Lucien didn't push the idea. They took no precautions and it was early days yet, they'd barely been married a month, still...

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On the other side of Ballarat Susan Tyneman was reading her mail. She had a letter from the bank informing her that for the second month in a row nothing had been deposited from her half of the mill her brother ran. Susan's father had built up a successful textile company and when he died he had left half each to his two children, Susan and her brother Conrad.. Conrad was to run the business and half the profits were to be deposited in a bank account specifically set up for his sister. Mr Harrison, Susan and Conrad's father, was not too enamoured of Patrick and as they were both strong characters there was often a clash. But Susan had chosen him and she was rather wilful, so the account was to provide for her should anything go wrong.

The previous month Susan had written to her brother to ask if there was a problem with the business but he had not replied. When she tried to phone him he had not been available, according to his secretary, but she would ask him to ring her when he was free. Needless to say, Conrad had not phoned. Susan tried him again but he was out of the office. She informed his secretary that she would try again later, but if he appeared would he please ring her to discuss the business.

Susan did try again, and again, until she finally managed to speak to her brother.

'Conrad,' she kept calm, no need to antagonise him, 'I have had a letter from the bank saying there has been no profit share deposited in my account. Is there a problem with the business?'

In his office, Conrad was wondering what to tell her, he had made some foolish investments that had lost the company money and he had operated on a deficit for the past three months. There would be nothing for her next month either. But he couldn't tell her that. 'Just a temporary setback, Susie,' he used her childhood nickname, 'there's been a bit of a slump lately.'

'Well, you might have said,' Susan huffed, 'then I would not have been worried. Is there anything I can do?'

'No, no, everything will be fine,' he replied airily, 'I'm sure the market will improve in time.'

'Right, well keep me in the picture please.' She sighed, Conrad wasn't the best person to run a company and usually the board kept him on a tight rein. She decided to send her housekeeper for the Sydney Herald, it had the business reports in.

Patrick was surprised to see his wife with the business section of the paper spread out on the dining table. He didn't think she was that interested, and it was the Sydney Herald.

'Susan?' He came to stand by her.

'Oh, Patrick, good.' She sat back, 'Father's textile company, here.' She pointed to an article headed: 'Harrison Textiles: board changes and profits scare.'

He scanned through the article and drew his brows in. 'Looks like Conrad has made some drastic changes and it has affected the profits, that, and unwise investments. Did you know about this?'

'No, not until I got a letter saying nothing had gone into my account.' She looked up at him, 'I finally managed to get to speak to my brother and he says it is a temporary setback. But this seems to indicate the company is on its last legs.'

Patrick sat down and pulled the paper towards him, there was a graph showing a steady decline in the profits until it dipped into deficit. There was also a line about workers being let go, bills not being paid.

'I'm sorry, Susan,' he looked at her, 'it looks like he's run the business into the ground.' He was genuinely sorry for her, she had been proud to be part of such a well thought of company and, by association, so was he.

'What do I do now?' Patrick was a businessman, surely he would be able to help her.

'Well, if I could have sight of the accounts, the dealings he has done, perhaps I could point you in the right direction.' He offered, not quite sure how much help she wanted, or what type.

'I don't want you to invest in the company,' she looked him in the eye, 'if that's what you're worried about, I just want to know if it can be saved, and if not, what do I do?'

He looked at her.

'I'll call him and ask to see the accounts, reports and anything else he has,' she stood up, 'then perhaps...'

'I'll see if my board can offer any hope, or ideas.'

'Thank you, Patrick.' She left to call her brother and he waited in the dining room. From what he saw the only hope was to sell before it got worse. They could, of course, try to get the old board members back, try and work something out.

Susan came back, her brows furrowed. 'He wasn't there so I asked his secretary to send copies of everything to me.'

'Good, well we can't do anything until we see them.' Patrick said, 'Can he get access to your account?'

'No, the company bank puts the money in but it can't take any out. Only I can do that.' She sighed, 'those were father's explicit instructions.'

'Well, in that case, you should be alright, for now.' He patted her arm as he left, off to another meeting, she assumed. She decided to concentrate her efforts on the hospital bazaar, they were trying to raise funds for new equipment. She had a list of people she thought she could rely on to help out, not all of them were in her circle but most had some connection to the hospital. One of whom was Jean Blake.

She called everybody and arranged a meeting for the following morning. The last person she called was Jean.

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'Dr Blake's residence,' Jean answered the phone while she spooned food into Amelia's mouth. 'Susan,' her surprise showed in her voice. She listened to what Susan had planned,

'Jean, Lucien was on the board, works at the hospital, I just thought...'

'...we have a vested interest.' Jean smiled in spite of herself. 'I agree it's a good idea, but, I have Amelia staying, it would mean bringing her with me.'

In her impeccably maintained home, with its delicate porcelain ornaments on well polished furniture, Susan thought. It never occurred to her that Jean couldn't leave the baby at home even though Lucien would be working, either surgery or autopsies, but there was no nanny and that nurse that used to lodge there had gone to London.

'Well,' Susan sighed,

'...she's quite well behaved.' Jean was grinning as she imagined Susan's face.

'I suppose...if I lift anything that could hurt her she would be alright.' Susan decided that saying she couldn't have a child in her house was rather churlish.

'Right then,' Jean spooned more dinner into the child's open mouth, 'we shall see you tomorrow, around ten.' She put the phone down and giggled. Fancy taking a toddler to the Tyneman's!

'Well, young lady,' she wiped the baby's face, 'you are to be introduced to the upper echelons of Ballarat society tomorrow.'

'What?' Lucien appeared in the kitchen just in time to hear the comment.

'I have been invited to Susan Tyneman's to discuss the hospital bazaar, and of course I have to take madam here.' She grinned and kissed him, a definitely wicked grin.

'Do you?'

'We don't have a nanny, Lucien, dear.' She lifted the baby and passed her over, 'where I go...'

'I could...' He couldn't imagine Susan coping with a toddler.

'What if you have a case?' She reasoned, 'and you have patients in the morning.'

'Ri i i ght.' He ran his free hand over his head.

'You can put her in her pyjamas though.'

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Jean put Amelia's things on the bottom of the pram in a basket. Her sippy cup, some pieces of fruit in a little box, fresh nappies, a bib and a few things to keep her occupied. She dressed her in a little blue smocked dress with matching pants over her nappy, a white cardigan, little white socks and pram shoes. She knew that the socks and shoes would come off, they always did, and she would dribble down the front of her outfit, but she was not yet twelve months old and Jean didn't mind.

She made sure her outfit was tidy, checked her makeup and smiled at Lucien as he watched her put Amelia in the pram.

'Have a good time, darling.' He kissed her cheek and Amelia's head. 'Be a good girl for grandma.'

'I think we'll be back for lunch, but if not, there's plenty in the fridge for you to feed yourself.' She kissed him back and allowed him to help her manoeuvre the pram through the front door.

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Amelia babbled and chattered all the way up to the Tyneman's. She pointed out things she saw, a 'goggy' (dog), 'puss puss' (cat) and oohed and aahed at other things like cars that passed and trees she was pushed under. Jean found it highly amusing, it must be a 'girl thing', her boys had never been that vocal.

Susan actually smiled when she greeted Jean and the baby. A little bit jealous that she was obviously very, very happy, with her marriage and with her granddaughter, who, as with most people, managed to charm her totally.

'Jean, so glad you could come.' She ushered her into the hall way, as Jean lifted the child out of the pram. 'Can I help you with anything?'

'Well,' Jean offered Amelia, 'or there are some things to keep her occupied under the pram, in that basket.'

'If you don't mind,' Susan bent down and retrieved Amelia's bits and pieces, 'it's sometime since I held a baby.'

'She is a bit of a wriggler,' Jean smiled, but Amelia was sitting obediently on her grandmother's hip and gazing at Susan.

'Come through to the drawing room,' Susan led the way.

Jean noticed how light and open, and impersonal the hall was, instantly she decided not to change anything about their home.

In the drawing room Jean saw some six other women with connections to the hospital, most of whom she knew. Geoffrey Nicholson's wife, Brenda, two senior nurses, a female doctor, not Alice, Mrs Adamson, whose husband was a consultant physician and Mrs Stanley, who sat on the board. Jean was introduced to the ones she didn't know by name and they all seemed captivated by Amelia. So much so that it was a good fifteen minutes before the proceedings could be got underway. Susan had cleared enough space for Amelia to be set on the floor to play, and crawl from one lady to another, Mrs Adamson, a grandmother herself managed to pick her up and continue to concentrate at the same time. Jean warmed to her. Amelia seemed to know who was receptive and who was not, and when she needed something, she headed straight to Jean. When the housekeeper served tea and coffee Amelia wanted some and reached for Jean's cup.

'No sweetheart, too hot.'

'Can I get her anything?' The housekeeper asked.

'Some milk, please.' Jean passed the sippy cup, 'she'll drink it cold.'

'I can warm it.'

'No cold is fine, thank you.' In fact Amelia preferred her milk straight out of the fridge. Jean was just grateful she was not a fussy eater and didn't need the extra vitamins in formula milk.

The housekeeper returned with the cup and another jug in case she needed more.

'Thank you.' Jean took the cup and passed it to Amelia. 'Say thank you, sweetie.'

'Coo,' Amelia took the cup.

'You're most welcome, miss.'

It was fair to say that even though thoughts were on the bazaar, Amelia entranced everyone there. In fact, Brenda Nicholson was just suggesting they do something especially for the children when there was a loud knocking at the door and,

'Susan!' A man's voice, loud and very angry. 'Where the bloody hell are you?!'

Jean could have sworn Susan went pale, beyond pale. She put her arms tight round the baby. Susan swallowed and left the room, rather quickly.

The rest of the women gathered looked at each other,

'That's not Patrick.' Mrs Adamson whispered. 'He sounds threatening.'

There was a shriek and a,

'No! Conrad!' as Susan backed into the room, a man brandishing a rifle pushing her with the barrel.

'I told you it would all be sorted, and you had to go and interfere!' The man yelled.

The silence was deafening, he looked round, six more women and a baby. The woman holding the baby stood up,

'I think it would be better if you put that down,' she said, apparently calmly, 'we don't want anyone to get hurt, do we?'

'Sit down!' He waved the rifle at Jean, who sat down suddenly holding Amelia so tight the child whimpered. She relaxed a tiny bit, a crying baby would make things worse. He turned his attention back to Susan.

'Please, Conrad,' she whispered, 'not here, not now. We'll talk later.'

He approached her, pushing the barrel of the weapon hard against her sternum. 'I want your bank book,' he grunted, 'and the authority to take the funds in there.'

While Susan appreciated that money was not everything, it was not his to take. If she let him have what he wanted the company would still go down, he would not learn. She wasn't stupid, she knew what went on in the world of business, how things were done, and she wasn't going to let him have his way. Her father had always told her to stand up for herself and now she was going to do just that.

'Conrad,' she lowered her hand from the raised position, 'let's sit down and talk about this, when Patrick comes home. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement.'

Brenda Nicholson stood up, 'Sir,' she addressed him formally, 'whatever issue you have with Mrs Tyneman, I'm sure she his right, her husband...'

'...is a braggart and a bully and knows nothing about my business.' He snapped.

In the distance Jean could swear she heard the sound of tyres and footfalls on the ground. The police...the housekeeper must have called them.

The doctor stood up, painfully aware of the damage the rifle could inflict on the human body.

'You, in there!' Jean recognised Matthew's voice, 'put down your weapon and come outside!'

A shot rang out and Jean noticed the doctor fall to the floor, a distinct hole in her chest. The other women screamed, one of the nurses dropped to her knees beside the fallen woman, put her fingers to a pulse point and shook her head, sadly.

'I'll take another one if anybody tries to come in!' Conrad yelled, pointing the rifle again at Susan. Susan stood horrified at the sight of a dead woman bleeding out onto her carpet.

'Conrad..' she whispered, 'what have you done?'

'You'll be next!' He pushed the end of the barrel into her sternum gain.

Amelia began to cry, much as Jean tried to soothe her.

'Shut her up!'

'She's frightened,' Jean stroked the baby's back and kissed her, 'it's ok, dumpling, grandma's here.' But what she really needed was grandpa. 'Sh, now, my darling, shh.'

'Mamaw,' the little girl cried.

'Shut...her...up!'

That only served to make her cry even harder, so hard Matthew could hear her outside, and so could Lucien, who had wheedled the situation out of Ned.

'Bloody hell!' He stepped forward, only to be restrained by Bill. He pulled his arm away, 'that's my wife and granddaughter in there!'

'Blake,' Matthew came up beside him, 'they're alive, and I'd like to keep it that way. Think, what would you do in a situation like this, during the war?' Much as he didn't like reminding Blake of his time in the services now was the time to put him there.

In the drawing room Jean was desperately trying to quieten Amelia, jigging her on her hip, singing to her, with a catch to the notes usually so pure,

'Hush little baby don't you cry...' but Amelia screamed on.

'Conrad,' Susan pleaded, 'let them go, please. This is a family matter.' She put her hand on the barrel.

Outside Blake was thinking, a sniper, but there was no clear view into the room. sneak in through the front? The Tyneman's had a gravel drive, they would be heard.

Patrick had arrived and was blustering about, what were they doing, go in and stop him.

'Who is it, Patrick?' Matthew asked, pulling him off Lucien.

'It sounds like her brother, Conrad Harrison.' Patrick paced, 'the company, her father's company , he runs it, isn't doing well, in fact,' he sighed, 'it's gone through the floor. Susan has been asking for information and requested the company records.'

'Right,' Matthew turned to Lucien. 'Any idea what weapon he's using?'

'Can't see,' Blake grunted, 'could be anything.'

Matthew swore under his breath. Looked like it was down to talking.

'Conrad,' he called, 'why don't we talk about this?'

'Get lost!'

'At least let the baby go!'

'Piss off!'

'Conrad!' Susan's voice.

'I told you...' He pushed hard against her and leant into her. Susan had had enough, she put her hand on the barrel and pushed it to one side. It went off, she looked shocked, so did Conrad.

Susan fell to the floor, Jean thrust Amelia at Brenda and went down to her. She was bleeding profusely from her shoulder, Jean pressed hard with her hands, one of the nurses threw a chair back cover at her, she stuffed it into the wound,

'Get the ambos!' She ordered, 'Lucien!' To hell with Conrad who was now standing staring at what he had done to his sister. Mrs Adamson calmly went to him and took the rifle out of his hand, and emptied the remaining bullets on to the floor.

The other nurse joined Jean, using chair backs to stem the bleeding, constantly talking to Susan, telling her to stay with them, stay awake, consoling, encouraging, soothing.

Then...

'Jean, let me.' The lovely, gentle voice of her husband, placing his hands over hers and smiling his approval. 'It's alright, darling, you've done a wonderful job, let me take over, please.' He even managed to kiss her head, bringing her into his field of love.

He spoke to Susan and then turned to Brenda Nicholson,

'Could you take everybody out please, perhaps to the kitchen, tea?' He raised his eyebrows and returned to tending to Susan.

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In the kitchen the ladies sat shocked into silence until,

'Mrs Blake.' The housekeeper was beside her, 'why don't you take that suit off, it's covered in blood. Here,' she held out a skirt and blouse of her own, 'I'm almost your size, wash up in the sink and put these on.'

Jean looked at her, then at her hands and clothes, then at Amelia, still held by Brenda Nicholson.

She stripped down to her slip and washed in the sink, then put on the offered clothes. She was just buttoning the blouse when Matthew entered,

'Jean,' he looked round, 'Lucien...'

'I'm fine, Matthew.' She smiled wanly, 'he needs to see to Susan, he has the experience to deal with her wound.'

He thought she looked very pale, paler than the other women who were sitting in shocked silence.

She took Amelia and buried her face in her curls, she needed Lucien so badly, but he had to be somewhere else. Matthew hobbled right up to her, they had been friends for years, she had fed him more than he had fed himself in recent times, he put his arms round her, to hell with propriety. He looked round, expecting to see shocked faces, but they all seemed to know.

'Ladies,' He pulled a chair out for Jean, 'I know this has all been very shocking for you, but, could anyone tell me what happened?'

Each looked to the other, for a spokeswoman, eventually Mrs Adamson spoke up,

'We were discussing the hospital bazaar and whether or not we could put something on for the children.' She accepted a cup of tea, 'there was a knocking on the door and he shouted for Susan.' She detailed how he had pushed Susan about with the gun, demanded access to some bank account she held, bellowed at her about interfering, shouted at the baby, who was now asleep, exhausted. 'When Dr Atherton stood up he shot blindly, but caught her full in the chest.'

'She was gone before she hit the floor,' the nurse who had checked her colleague whispered.

'Thank you ladies.' He looked round at them again. 'We'll arrange for you to be taken home, or wherever you want to go, but for now...'

'We'll stay here, together, Matthew.' Jean sighed. She felt so tired, shock, she supposed.

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Jean was the last to be collected, by Charlie.

'The doc's just finishing up.' He smiled gently, 'Mrs Tyneman's going to be alright, but may have restricted use of the arm and quite a bit of scarring.'

'Thank you, Charlie,' Jean looked at the now overturned pram, 'I'll get that tomorrow.'

'I'll come back and get it, after he gets home.' Charlie got into the car, 'he asked me to stay with you until he does.'

'I'll be fine.'

'Orders, ma'am,' he turned to her and grinned, 'orders.'

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Charlie made Jean some tea, she would be floating in the stuff soon, she thought, and fed and changed Amelia. In spite of what the little girl had been through she seemed none the worse for it. Time would tell, Jean thought, time would tell.

Lucien arrived back, looking slightly dishevelled. It had been a struggle, first to stop the bleeding then to put Susan's shoulder back together, but he had done his best, and she was now sleeping, Patrick by her side, suddenly realising what he had nearly lost.

The first thing he had to do was see his wife and granddaughter. Turning into the living room, there she was, playing with Amelia as if nothing untoward had happened that day. Charlie nodded and went to pick up the pram and fish and chips for supper. Neither expected Jean to cook.

She looked up and smiled and in an instant he was by her side, holding them both and kissing her deeply, passionately, tasting the life in her. It could so easily have been them.

'Are you alright?' He finally breathed, 'you weren't hurt?'

'I'm fine, Lucien, we're fine.' She rested against his chest, listening to the steady life giving beat of his heart. 'Is Susan alright?'

'She will be, but there was a lot of damage, it will never be perfect, but your quick thinking probably saved her life.' He kissed her again. 'Now, Charlie has gone for fish and chips, then I suggest we get this little one to bed and you can have a relaxing bath. If you behave yourself I might even scrub your back.'

'I think I'd like that, a lot.' She sighed.

He tried to be light-hearted for her, but as he'd worked on Susan he had seen Jean's face, and every time he closed his eyes he saw Jean and Amelia lying in a pool of blood. He tightened his hold on them both and she let him, knowing his mind was working overtime.

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Charlie went to bed early, to let them have some time together, Amelia seemed to settle, so, sherry and whisky consumed, Lucien ran a bath for Jean, tipping her favourite, and his, scented crystals into it.

She lay with her eyes closed for a while, waiting for Lucien, who she knew would come into her, whether she asked him to or not. He stood in the doorway, wearing his robe, it wasn't just her back he was intent on attending to! She looked so beautiful to him. Jean opened her eyes and smiled cheekily at him.

'Hello,' she murmured, 'what can I do for you?'

'Quite a lot, I expect,' he bent down and kissed her, 'but first I think I need to scrub your back.'

She leant forward and shuffled enough to allow him to climb in and sit behind her.

He drew lazy circles on her back with the sponge, kissed the back of her neck and nibbled her ear lobes. He felt her relax and stroked the sponge down her arms and round over her breasts. She lay against him, to give him better access and sighed as his hands, the sponge having been let go, smoothed down her stomach and between her legs. She hummed and moved just enough to show she was interested in his attentions. She could feel him hard against her, but she needed to see him, so shifted and turned round, settling astride him. He lifted her so he was inside her and reached behind her head to pull her into a kiss as she slowly started to move around him. She gripped his shoulders as she became more desperate, more urgent, then suddenly there was what she wanted and she arched her back and called his name as she released and felt him flood into her milliseconds after.

Her breathing came in hungry gasps as she gradually relaxed and lay on his chest. His breathing was more like hiccups, she thought and realised he was crying, knowing that he nearly lost this and much more, that he nearly lost his Jean. She planted little kisses on his chest and murmured,

'I'm here, Lucien,' another kiss, 'I love you,' kiss, 'I'm not going anywhere without you.'

'If anything were to happen to you...'

She looked up and smiled, that particular smile, the one that made his heart leap with absolute and total love.

'It won't,' she pulled herself up to kiss his lips, 'because, whatever goes on, you are here,' she pointed to the centre of her chest, 'and that's all the protection I need.'

They got out of the bath as the water cooled, Lucien wrapped a towel round her and then one round himself. He watched her go and check on Amelia. The baby was asleep, on her back with her arms flung above her head, as usual.

'They're remarkably resilient,' he whispered, 'she should be fine, but we'll keep an eye on her for any issues with loud bangs, for instance.'

'So you think she's too young to remember what happened?'

'Hopefully,' Lucien pulled her close, 'come on, my turn to love you.'

She looked at his face, a wicked smile, then to the towel, straining. She had the grace to blush a little, then took his hand and followed him to their bedroom.

They made love into the small hours, Lucien kissed just about every piece of her, took her to the stars, more times than she thought possible, then held her and gazed at her as she slept. He did doze, but didn't want to miss seeing her in slumber, her eyelashes bounding off her cheeks, her mouth slightly open, inviting a kiss, which he declined, not wishing to wake her.

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Jean sighed and turned to look at the tiny infant in the bassinet next to the bed. Conceived on the night Susan Tyneman had been shot and injured by her brother, Lucy Genevieve Blake made her way into the world loudly at two o'clock in the morning.

Lucien was beside himself with joy, he couldn't take his eyes of his wife and daughter, he had attended her throughout the birth, and was now phoning everybody he had to, including Mattie in London, to tell them that both were well.

Nothing could bring him down from cloud nine, today.

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Tried to do a bit of fluff but had to include a threat, the muse came back. Reviews and comments as always most welcome.


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